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Crush enemies, abandon hope, and unleash endless waves of unrepentant sarcasm. |
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There's nothing to see here that's really out of the ordinary. Nothing really terribly interesting either, unless you like griping, gossip, grudges, and possible mental illness. If anything it's some small way to keep myself writing (though you'll see by the dates on the entries that it's by no means an effective way), as well as a means through which I can vent about any number of things that are pissing me off. Occasionally there's pie. Look: I'm not a normal person. I'm suffering from untreated depression and plagued by increasingly frequent migraines that pretty much render me bedridden for days. I've suffered a lifetime of abuse and neglect, and still have to struggle with unfathomable depths of low self-worth, not to mention the eating disorders. I'm a weirdo, a freak, an aberration of nature and human experience . . . but it doesn't make me interesting. So, you can read this if you want. I've got some social commentary that might be a little fun, and occasionally throw in a poem or two, but for the most part it's the ramblings of a stricken mind. Pay no attention to the woman behind the curtain; she's just trying to change her dress. |
| Would it seem odd if I were to say that killing myself seems a very logical move? |
| On this very cold morning after German class (during which I learned that A) Die Geschichte von Herrn Sommer has finally arrived in the bookstore and I must go and buy one before Wendesday, B) we will have two days to revise our essays, and C) I need to begin the memorization process of verbs that are now ever so slightly changed, I decided that I may as well check to see what the Chinese place is cooking today. When I got there, they had the most beautiful dish of sesame chicken I've ever seen. I ordered some, and was happy. But as I approached the cashier and reached for my card like I always do, I discovered that it was missing from my pocket. Instead of crying and wailing and promising to kill myself the following evening, like I did in high school whenever anything unpleasant happened, I said, "Oh shit," a couple of times then retraced my steps across campus. No sign of the card on the ground, so I resigned myself to the possibilty I might have to fork out ten-fucking-dollars to Mason to get a new one. I still had hopes of finding it; I was pretty sure the only time I'd had my hand in that pocket after leaving my room was when I was reaching for my chapstick just outside my dorm. I figured chances were good that it had either fallen out in the dorm or just outside. The RA on duty at the desk had not received my card, so I got a temporary pass with which to enter my building so I could look for the card or, not finding it there, grab my wallet to go purchase a new one. However, sure enough somebody had found my card and stuck it overtop my dry erase board. I'm happy not to have lost it, but sad to have lost my lunch, which I set down on one of the fountain drink counters (since I had no way of paying for it) and which has likely been thrown away. I wish I had not wasted food, but I think that if I had gone back to the Chinese place and told them what had transpired, they would have tossed it as well. I tried to catch a falling star, but all I got was this damn pixie. |
| I'm very happy to say that I'm back at school wholly and completely, and that things are going well. I still don't have a job, but if I do not forget I will be going to the Aquatic and Fitness Center to see if I can snatch an application, and this time I will call every two or three days. It sounds so rude, though! I can understand why it would be necessary in a place like a college, where they are getting floods of applications from students, but I still feel uncomfortable bothering the nice people who probably have better things to do than look for the application of someone who's never had a paying job before. But I really need a job right now; I could spend the rest of my college life taking out loans, but I need the experience (and new clothes) for my future life (assuming I live that long). At any rate, it's great to be back, and my only regret is that this is my last semester in Brunswick with all my Brunswick people. Brad and Ray are moving to Liberty, Aimee is probably going to start commuting, and Sasha is either moving into the apartments with Marianne/Taka or commuting. As for myself, I have been invited to live in an apartment with Amanda, Shannon, and Kim, but I'm beginning to wonder if those bedfellows would be agreeable after many days. Besides, I like the variety of the standard dorms (excluding the "variety" that allows Ethan to dwell herein), but I'm resigned to the fact that, if I do stay here, I'll be far from the very people who made living here so much fun. But, QUOTES! "I was so excited on the walk over here; I was all, "Yay, German!" and now that I'm actually here I'm all, "Ughhhhhh, German . . . . " ~ Me "I will eat you and your guitar." ~ Me Me: Why are we dancing!? People in the nineteen-twenties danced like this! Brad: Nobody dances like this!" |
| Oh, how I loathe being a woman at these times! The cramping is literally dizzying in its painfulness. The Motrin I just took is starting to kick in, which is relieving, but it's not working fast enough. I will most certainly be asking for a different birth control medication upon my next check up in August. The Levlen, even though it had ceased to work as well as when I first got on it, did better than the Zovia at curbing the cramps and other various aches. I want to try that Yaz stuff, but I don't think Kaiser carries it. I can't complain too much, since there are plenty of other meds that will likely provide some relief to my obstinate reproductive organs. But yeah: being a woman can suck, pills need to be updated, and new poems will be added soon. Enjoy it, readers. |
| Well, I kinda went back on my promise never to be involved in underaged drinking. But, I think my reasoning of being there to ensure that at least one party is responsible enough to call an ambulance should something go wrong is a good enough excuse; these people are going to drink anyway, so why pretend that I'm helping by ignoring that fact, like some kind of moral vegan? At any rate, t'was Kelsey's twentieth birthday, and to celebrate she wanted to go to Rocky Horror at the cinema, after some serious pre-gaming at Jared's apartment. So I went to party, and with me were Jessica, Barber, Melvin, Jon, some Victor guy, Smitty, and of course Kelsey and Jared. Oh, the drunkeness! We played drinking games for some time (I was given a Red-Headed Slut but because of my inexperience with booze I just couldn't take the taste), and I watched Melvin sink into drunken oblivion. Barber was not far behind in his descent, and poor Victor often didn't realize when he was supposed to drink and when not to. I ended up getting a Sprite myself, but the sugar was enough to make me all hyper-silly, not to mention that being around drunk people is often enough to make me feel like one of them. Or maybe it was the three-quarters of red-headed slut. Any matter, I found the entire ordeal of drinking gamage entirely hilarious. And then there was drunken dancing, during which Melvin fell down, usually on top of people. Jessica was taken down with him on one occasion, and her back fell right against my knee. I feared injury to the Jessica, but she seemed fine. We chose to walk to the University Mall cinema place, A) because we didn't all fit in one car and most of us were tipsy at least, and B) because Jon, who I thought was driving, "didn't feel like it." Kelsey kept trying to give me a piggyback ride because of my heels, but it was far more painful having my chest crushed against her back than to walk on the balls of my feet. Barber had to stop every ten minutes to urinate (in public), and somehow our group of nine stretched into groups of two or three with many yards between them. Walking in heels actually wasn't that hard, though my left heel (anatomical, not shoe) kept trying to slip out of its shoe. I tried to catch a falling star, but all I got was this damn pixie. |
| Despite my difficulty in opening my mouth more than half way (more on that later) and my overall desire to lose a few inches off my thighs, hips, and buttocks (science tells us dieting doesn't do squat for those areas anyway), I stuck to my promise to order a cheesy bacon cheeseburger from Friday's tonight when I went out with Preston, Sasha, and Ray. I must say, that was a DAMN good burger. It was a big burger, too; I knew it would be hard, but I made plans to finish its rather greasy goodness all the same. Sadly, in the end, the burger won and my stomach was vanquished by the combination of beef, bacon, American and provolone. |
| For this one, I seemed to be royalty. I cannot specify exactly, but I knew my father was a very important man and later on in the dream I protested my capture because I was a member of the royal family. I also had a talking cat, a little orange tabby. I was the adventurous type, and it had gotten me into trouble, again. We were in a cave sysyem that apparently was the home of some big shot mobsters, albeit the non-violent type. I had been thrown into a dungeon with a few of my friends (possibly for trespassing), and we had to figure out how to escape. Since we were dealing with limestone, it was little trouble to break open one of the water pipes and let the H2O do its work. I had something like a spoon that I used to dig away at the softened limestone. I'm not really sure what would have happened to us, but I don't think we were in danger; I probably just didn't want my parents to find out. Upon our escape, we returned to our ship (water kind, not space kind) and got back on the ocean. Why a ship was my main choice of transportation, I don't know. The seas were particularly rough, and we were being tossed all over the place. My talking cat warned me about some rumors she had heard about pirates (I think it was pirates) in that part of the sea. I should have been more careful, but to no avail. I woke up in a very lavishly decorated bedroom (with multiple beds if I remember correctly) with a design clearly based on Greek/Roman styles (rather, how Hollywood portrays Greek/Roman styles). There was this beautiful blonde woman there with shiny pink/blue eyeshadow up to her eyebrows (but it looked great). She had a daughter with her, and she was referring to me as "her Mexican" which I took to mean that she had full plans of making me her slave. I got pissed, since I was a princess or something. They were not going to let me escape, but the cat told me to use my powers, so I started breathing fire and making things break and making other things fly across the room. With that, we escaped. My friends were not as lucky, though; I could not get to them before the guards did, and by the time I returned to where they were being held they were gone, taken off the . . . island, I think. Defeated, I returned home, but my father didn't care. He had hands to shake and public appearances to make, and I had to follow in the vanguard. I was staring off into space, feeling weak and helpless over the loss of my friends. Suddenly my resolve returned, and I chided myself for moping when I should be working my ass off to get them back home. I stole off into the night away from the vanguard. Nobody noticed. I had a plan already: the chief mobster, a guy who dressed like a green snake for his position (I thought he was a snake, but turns out it was just a costume), would no doubt want to hear that his smuggling ships were in danger. He had the means to covertly destroy any infrastructure with a minimum loss of life, so I figured he was my man. I was captured in the mobsters' cave again (those guys are good) and taken once more to the dungeon. I escaped again and found one of the lead guy's servants (hired help, not a slave). I told her that I needed to speak with him at once about matters that were important to both of us. He was sleeping, but she woke him up. In an atonishing display of rhetoric, I spoke strongly about the dangers faced by our side of the ocean from the crazies on the other side. Not only were they kidnaping and sinking ships, but they were poisoning the drinking water as well. The guy is shocked to hear this, and immediately orders that medicine be found to treat those poisoned (it caused slow and painful death but can easily be cured), and even opens his house to people in need of cures. We plan to take out the Roman-wannabes, and an attraction toward him sprouts. He becomes attracted to me, and as we fight the battle together we fall for each other. The fact that he is a mobster doesn't bother me, because even if some of his activities are illegal, he has never harmed anyone without cause and is clearly a kind, compassionate person. |
| It's Christmas time once again!! You know what that means, dontcha kids?! Candy canes in every store! Wreaths hung on your neighbors' doors! Hams on sale, and turkeys too! Santa Claus showing up at the local mall! Christmas trees lighting up in town square! Christmas carols from chilly jolly people! Enthusiasm for the birth of baby Jesus! And, most importantly, douchebags finding obscenity in everything around them! These are the days of Bill O'Reilly's "War on Christmas," a period in which, every night on his news commentary show, he gives more examples from accross the nation of people saying that Baby Jesus is offensive, and that the word "Christmas" should never be used outside of one's home or church. I tried to catch a falling star, but all I got was this damn pixie. |
| On waking up: My mind is willing but my body is saying "Go fuck yourself." |
| Cranium must be the greatest game ever invented. Where else do you have to put in use your acting ability, AND your creative skills, AND your memory, AND crazy literary skills? It doesn't matter if you're a complete fool and can't get anything right; just to watch the other teams go crazy trying to get the question is rewarding. I first played Sunday night with Raymond, Sasha, partner Preston, Jim, and Aimee (Kat and David joined shortly after as well). Much was the laughter, the groans, and the shaking of fists when a partner couldn't get the answer. Such fun! Preston and I, despite being assailed with "red" our name for the trivia cards, "tied" with Ray and Sasha when we cut the game early. Technically, they made it to the big brain a few turns before we did, so I claim they won. Anyhow, last night we played again, still with Jim, Preston (he left me), Ray, and Sasha, and we added Pip, Bradley, and Heather (Sasha junior). I was worried about getting paired with Heather, but I needn't to have worried; she was great (even if I did kinda take the reins with the Zoomas and the trivia questions; they're just so clear that I blurt them out). And, what joy, we won! We got all four brain cards before any of the other teams got one. We rock, we so totally rock. She rocks the drawing world, and the sculpting world. I rock the guessing world and the knowledge world. Together, we rock all things. I tried to catch a falling star, but all I got was this damn pixie. |
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